Thursday, April 01, 2010

The Hound of Heaven

The Hound of Heavenby Francis Thompson

I fled Him, down the arches of the years;I fled Him, down the labyrinthine waysOf my own mind; and in the midst of tearsI hid from Him, and under running laughter.Up vistaed hopes I sped;And shot, precipitated,Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears,From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.But with unhurrying chase,And unperturbed pace,Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,

They beat - and a Voice beatMore instant than the Feet -'All things betray thee, who betrayest Me'.Save Me, save only Me?All which I took from thee I did but take,Not for thy harms,But just that thou might'st seek it in My arms,All which thy child's mistakeFancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:Rise, clasp My hand, and come!'Halts by me that footfall:Is my gloom, after all,Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?'Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,I am He Whom thou seekest!Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me.'

Thank you to Rob Smith who just sent me the above partial-extract of a much longer poem as some sort of synchronisitic, perhaps even telepathic response to my own thoughts on the other side of the globe. For this is a story about my own "Hound of Heaven" who is seeking liberation.

Those of you have read The Risen know about “liberation dramas” and have some understanding of them – at least theoretically – as it says in Chapter 19:

“Some are simple events, such as helping my cousin Jerry cross a field, but most are extremely complex in approach and design, requiring creativity as well as experience and a certain mental and spiritual stability in one’s life.”

I seldom relate about my current involvement in such “rescues” precisely because of the complexities and the fact that they take place on non-terrestrial, otherdimensional levels that defy description in human-dimensional language. I recently returned from one that was unusually, emotionally and psychologically complex involving many intricate dramas in a diakkan society. (And if you want to know what “Diakka” is, it’s discussed in the book, or see this old blog post.) I can also confirm something that probably hasn’t been made too apparent in all the literature about spirit lands over the past century, which is that it’s not uncommon for diakkan societies to be warring cultures. This particular one that I’m involved in is just that, and quite brutal in its deeply crystallized ego-mind inspired ways of living. But apparently, a certain individual there has grown weary of such violent ways of living, and sent out just the faintest prayer for help – probably no more than a brief sigh – but which went out like a brilliant beacon through the fog, and responded to by higher-vibrating Risen entities. I have a very particular role to play, which more or less amounts to what I can only describe as “espionage”. Ok, well yes, a mole. I’m assigned to this person who thinks he’s supposed to be some kind of teacher-warrior assigned to protect me as in some kind of rough political fray – the likes of which get actually quite physically violent as well there. So the plot thickens, and we pray we will be able to lift his consciousness up long enough to be able to see and hear that which he heart has begun to sense, and to help him transition out of his current state.

The actual point of the above is to lead into what was recently revealed to me as I returned– with some difficulty – into my body one morning after spending “time” with this drama. As I lay there, having trained myself to stay still in order to retain and build an info-sphere of all that had happened, to the best of my abilities – two of my guide-companions spent some time counseling me and answering questions – “debriefing” is the word that comes to mind. I asked permission to be able to record some of it, and they said yes, as long as I did what they said. The first thing was to get up out of bed and turn on the computer to let it warm up so I could type while in trance. This I did, only to find I had to pee quite badly. Thankfully I was allowed to do this, but I was also dreadfully thirsty. But when I went to get a drink of water, they forbade me. This was agony – partially because I was very parched, and partially because I hate being told what to do, especially in the way of my creature comforts. I had to struggle with this but couldn’t for long, if I was to get back into bed for the rest of the process. It was explained that if I took in any terrestrial substance, such as food or water, it would trigger my to fully re-enter my body, and my vibration would no longer be sufficiently high enough to debrief further and access more info, or make memories. This somehow reminds me of the old stories where humans are cautioned to never drink or eat anything when they enter faerie.

After about 30 minutes lying down receiving information and energy, I was told to go to the computer, and typed the following. I give it here in all its original dictated form, and for now, will offer no further comments or analysis about it. However, I will note that the primary subject – that of dreams and dream interpretation – is an interesting one, as the last book the Tim wrote was about just such a subject. He remains silent about this for now.

I cannot speak for everyone, but I do know there are those of us who have lives during the time our terrestrial body sleeps that are so far beyond the pale existence of the terrestrial experience that it is truly impossible to speak or write of those lives in any terrestrial language, save, perhaps, art.

Those who think that they know their dreams, and understand them, and can speak and write of them—in any way—are in the unconscious clutches of the ego-mind, and are being used by its mentality. The ego-mind cannot travel beyond the terrestrial state of embodiment into the astral, where Authentic Self lives—and loves—in such intense, often frenzied and fierce, yet exquisitely fiery and tender ways, that the life of a still-embodied person on the earth can be said without doubt to be the actual dream.Thus all the millennia of written and oral tradition, sacred and secular texts, which claim to have understood the mysteries of what are labeled as “dream lives” and “dream symbols and interpretations” add up to mere delusions of the ego-mind—it is speaking of itself and the lives of its own simulate personalities while in captivity on the Earth, and not of the vast truth which it cannot claim, which is Authentic Self’s immortal existence outside time and space.

When an Authentic Self returns to the terrestrial body, when it awakens—which is really falling back asleep—very rarely can It bring any awareness of from where and when It came. Even those tiny wisps of vibrations that echo scant information of Its astral lives, adventures, and lovers, are unable to be retained for more than a few breaths. Instead, the Authentic Self falls back into a deep slumber, as the ego-mind regains control of the body-mind. The ego-mind is clever and skilled enough to sample and analyze the dissolving wisps before they vanish, and it is with these after-tastes that the ego-mind reconstructs what it thinks are the dramas of its sleep, which it calls “dreams.” Some ego-minds profess to study them, and label them as “not real” but as proof of the depths and complexities of what it imagines as its own real psychological intelligence and evolved and shining talents. Conversely, others also profess to study them and arrive at the same conclusions, while claiming beliefs that the dreams are “real” and evidence higher spiritual aspects, communications, and messages from divinities and demons, as well as interactions with other embodied and even disembodied personalities.

But the ego-mind cannot and never will be able to leave its actual confines, because neither it nor its confines are real, but rather a short-lived and fragile bubble of energy borrowed from the loosest elements of earth and air that comprise the terrestrial body. It is also this bubble of ego-mind’s dreams that Authentic Self re-enters and then proceeds forward in its terrestrial life, unaware in any way of the spectacular, astoundingly beautiful life of reality that awaits Its return to the higher astral realms. Instead, It allows ego-mind to daze and dazzle It by beliefs about dreams, lulled deeper into a day-slumber, where It usually will remain unconscious until the body and the ego-mind finally fall away, and transition toward the Risen Lands begins.

"Creativity is the principle of novelty. Creativity introduces novelty into the content of the many, which are the universe disjunctively. The creative advance is the application of this ultimate principle of creativity to each novel situation which it originates. The ultimate metaphysical principle is the advance from disjunction to conjunction, creating a novel entity other than the entities given in disjunction. The novel entity is at once the togetherness of the 'many' which it finds and also it is one among the disjunctive ' many' which it leaves; it is a novel entity, disjunctively among the many entities which it synthesizes. The many become one, and are increased by one. In their natures, entities are disjunctively 'many' in process of passage into conjunctive unity... Thus the 'production of novel togetherness' is the ultimate notion embodied in the term concrescence. These ultimate notions of 'production of novelty' and 'concrete togetherness' are inexplicable either in terms of higher universals or in terms of the components participating in the concrescence. The analysis of the components abstracts from the concrescence. The sole appeal is to intuition.-- (Alfred North Whitehead, Process and Reality, p. 26)

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"Because we do not know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustable well. Yet everything happens a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that is so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that. How many times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless."
-- Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

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"The instrument of thought, which has produced this world that does not work properly, is no longer valid. So perhaps this instrument of thought is worn out. Is there another instrument we can use?" -- Krishnamurti

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"...Nature gets credit which should in truth be reserved for ourselves: the rose for its scent, the nightingale for its song, and the sun for his radiance. The poets are entirely mistaken. They should address their lyrics to themselves and should turn them into odes of self-congratulation on the excellence of the human mind. Nature is a dull affair, soundless, scentless, colourless; merely the hurrying of material, endlessly, meaninglessly."
-- Alfred North Whitehead - English mathematician & philosopher (1861-1947)___________________________________

". . . keeping the Risen concept of weaving in mind, perhaps at this point it can be sensed that what we have before us, from which we are inseparable and as reflected in this book, is a Supreme Tapestry. There appears to be a Very Grand Design which we all follow, either in awareness
or not, co-creatively or not -- recalling that creative means fun. As we weave we are free to make it up as we go along in any way we please, simultaneously staying within the Grand Design as imagined by Higher Imaginals, of whom we an inseparable part. The Grand Design is a work of perfections intermingled with imperfections, solutions with mistakes, and stillness within movement. The Higher Imaginals are many things, but for our purposes here, it suffices to say that they are very advanced and evolved individuals, or Higher Selves."
(from The Risen: Dialogues of Love, Grief & Survival Beyond Death; Chapter 13, Mundus Imaginalis, p. 165).